you were always the one for me
by smoak is smokin
Summary: Dean's arm had proudly boasted "That was pretty brave, you standing up for her." since he was four years old. ;/; Dean/Laurel soulmate AU/Pre-series


**Hi everyone. This is a Dean/Laurel fic because I said so. Obviously, I own nothing. Also, this is probably OOC because a, I can't get a good idea of Laurel's character, and b, I have only seen half of the 6th season and all of the seasons before, not to mention I haven't seen it in a long time. This is my first attempt at both of these characters, so some tips on how to write them would be appreciated.**

**Onward!**

* * *

><p>Demons, Dean could handle, human beings that were major douchebags, not so much.<p>

Dean was working at a bar in Starling City, and he was at the bar, not on the floor. Every so often, he'd walk past a girl and a guy that were in the middle of the bar, and because of their being in the middle, every time he walked from one end to the other, he always passed them. The angel at the far end usually had all of the attention he could give when working, bu the guy was seriously starting to get overbearing.

The guy at the bar had been sleazing it up pretty thickly - the girl he was talking to had said, at least three times, that she wasn't there for a date, but the guy didn't seem to care and just kept up at his shitty attempts at flirting - and Dean, being the bartender who always roofied the supposed-to-be roofier, had confronted the guy.

Guy didn't like that, and was, apparently, a good right hook. Dean usually would have defended himself, but the police officers there "for the food" had gotten up and come his way. He was happy to inform the officers that he had reason to suspect that the guy was going to roofie to poor girl he'd set his eyes on. He also said that the guy had started it. The girl had backed him up, much to his pleasure. He loved getting guys like this one into jail, or wherever they went.

"You came over here, getting in my-" The guy starts to shout, and _my god,_ please_ shut him up_. His voice was like a dying walrus' and it could probably make ears bleed.

"I came over to you, and told you to leave her alone or you were gonna be-" He's maybe exaggerating his exact words. If he says that he threatened the guy getting kicked out, maybe he won't be fired once word-of-mouth led this whole thing to his boss.

The police officer who was tallest raised his hand to cut Dean off. Dean usually wasn't one for listening to authority figures, but he was not the one in the wrong here, and he was sure he wasn't about to get reprimanded.

"Sir, suspicion of someone on their way to roofie-ing another person is no reason to get us involved," he said like Dean had come to them, tapped him on the shoulder, and requested their presence. The cop turned to the other guy, "you cannot just throw punches at people, or _roofie_ them. I'll let you both off with a warning for now, but do it again...," he trailed off, trying to be threatening, though it didn't work for Dean, or the other guy.

There was a big _whoop-de-doo_ for a few minutes after that in which Dean got angry at the cop who didn't seem to think that date-rape drugs were as bad as Dean did and was nearly arrested.

They'd let him get back to his job and left him a shitty tip. He'd been looking for a new rag under the bar when he first heard a voice he'd be hearing a lot of, not that he knew that at that moment.

"That was pretty brave, you standing up for her." The siren from the far end of the bar stared at his jaw as he looked up at her from the counter, and winced at the discoloring the sleaze-ball had caused. "He hit you pretty hard, huh?"

Dean couldn't move.

* * *

><p>When Dean was just a little four-year old, well before his mother had been killed, he had found the words on his wrist and been petrified at the thought of whoever had his response on <em>their<em> arm. Mary Winchester had assured him that he would find that person eventually, and everything would work out, but he hadn't been convinced.

In response to his sobbing, because yeah, he was _that_ scared, she had told him, "your soul mate will love you for you, and I know that because that person was chosen specifically for you, Dean. Out of every person on this Earth, the person who says that to you is perfect for you and only you. They are your destiny, and you're theirs."

Dean, despite being only four and in the middle of a nervous breakdown, had kinda liked the way his mommy had said _your soul mate_. As he grew up, he'd made up his own version of her with giant tits and a loving attitude that allowed her to like him even though he killed things on a regular basis and was grumpy all the time. He didn't care much of what she looked like other than that, she just had to be perfect like his mother had promised him (with the big boobs).

Soul mates became something as serious _no-jokes-allowed_ as his mother's death for him.

Eventually, probably when he was about nineteen and going through the what-is-life phase, he'd realized he couldn't expect that of whoever she was (especially if she was a he). He'd been devastated at first, having to let go of his vision of his soul mate, but then he'd begun to think of them as an unattainable angel from God's toy box.

The words that were on his arm were seared into his mind at all times. **That was pretty brave, you standing up for her. **They were his mode of encouragement and it wasn't a bad place to draw that kind of stuff from. There were only so many scenarios that he would stand up for a girl in, but he liked to think that every one of them could make him a better person in the long run.

As he got older, and as the years went by of him not meeting his soul mate, he started to become somewhat antsy. The occasional drunken rant was shortened, and he got anxious about it. Dean had started to think he'd never hear her/him/they/it/possible-future-evil-overlord say the words to him.

He was only in Starling City because Sam had been accepted into some prestigious school, and Dad hadn't given two craps less, since he "had a lead," just like always. He wouldn't be shocked if the lead led to nowhere and Dad came to Starling, guns blazing and head steaming.

Sam and Dean looked at places they could live in the Glades, and decided on a small appartement on the edge. The bills and food expenses (apparently even the run-down part of Starling was pricey) had made Dean have to get a job instead of hustling like he would just about anywhere else, and he'd picked the run down bar a block over.

Frankly, he was kind of scared to go any farther into the glades than that, and he'd banned Sam from going anywhere past the bar. Sam hadn't objected, and it delighted Dean to know he wasn't the only wuss. The rest of the city was pretty standard, though the giant Queen Consolidated building, as well as the Merlyn Global building, were both things that made Starling different from the ramshackle, two-story towns they'd been living in lately.

His initial thoughts about the city as a whole were pretty neutral, aside from the negative thoughts about the Glades and skyscrapers, and the positive thoughts about the girls who he went home with on occasion.

He'd never thought that anything special would've come from moving there.

* * *

><p>Laurel had seen the whole incident from down the bar.<p>

The guy with muscles had clearly overstepped the line into creeper. Some of the stuff he said was disgusting, and she'd been on her way to berate him - "I'm a lawyer and the daughter of a police officer" was the best way to get rid of his kind - when the hot bartender who Joanna had wanted to serve them had made his way to the guy's part of the bar.

"Look," he'd said, and his voice wasn't allowed to be that deep, it must have been illegal and she would know, "she's not interested. So either leave the building, or go somewhere in here that is not the bar."

Hot-Bartender hadn't sounded very angry, his voice had been low and private, almost like he was trying to save the guy from the glares he'd most-likely get, but Creeper had decided that Hot-Bartender was threatening him, and swung.

Hot-Bartender flinched when the fist hit, but didn't get flung backwards like Creeper seemed to want him to.

Laurel had jumped from her seat, because a, Hot-Bartender wasn't the only one that was gonna get punched, not on her watch, b, it was second nature for her to defend people and c, maybe Hot-Bartender would notice her if she punched Creeper right in his nose. Joanna gripped her arm tightly, though, and Laurel was left to watch Creeper limp home with his tail between his legs, and Hot-Bartender almost get arrested for something that wasn't a criminal offense.

She'd decided to go up to he bartender, and saw that his name tag said Dean W. He was getting something from under the bar when she walked over, and didn't look up when she started talking.

"That was pretty brave, you standing up for her." She said, looking at the bruise already coming onto the part of his jaw that she could see. His jaw, that was extremely distracting. To redirect herself, she asked, "he hit you pretty hard, huh?"

That was when he looked at her for the first time, and she was startled to find hazel green eyes in a shade she'd never seen before. He was frozen, though, and it didn't seem like it was because of the same reasons as her.

"Um, Dean?" She asked slowly. It was weird to say his name, when he hadn't introduced himself to her yet. "Are you hurt? Do you need to go to the-"

"No," he swallowed. "I'm good, no hospital visits for me. I just, uh, you're... beautiful. You're more than I ever expected."

He would've sounded creepy, too, but she'd read the words that just left him every morning since she could read. Her mark, the one with the exact words he just said, had been on her since birth, in the standard place, but the words had nearly given both of her parents and herself a heart attack since then. Putting it into context didn't help her elevated heart rate. It was beating so fast she thought he might be able to hear it.

"Oh, my god," she said. Then, they just gaped at each other until a customer shouted, "Bartend!", and he turned towards them, stepping away from her.

Dean wasn't gone long, but it felt like he'd been with his customer for ages. When he finally came back, she found her voice again.

"I'm Laurel. I'll go out on a limb and say I think you're my soul mate. Your thoughts on that?"

He looked down to his wrist and her eyes followed his. The words on his wrist were in the standard black, Times New Roman, but it was different from all the times she'd seen a soul mark. It was special to her, this mark, and it only made her more sure of this man being her soul mate.

"Well, what you said to me is certainly written out on my wrist."

"Hmm," she said, like this conversation wasn't a giant life changer. "When do you get off? We can get something to eat, and talk. I'll pay," she offered. It wasn't because of his appearance (he looked like he'd been living the hard-knock life for quite some time, and it both saddened her and excited her - it meant he wouldn't be some whiny baby, and the muscles she could see contended with that), but because she had money to spend, and he... worked at a bar.

He grinned. "Well, Laurel, I'll have you know that there is someone waiting up for me."

The way he said it made her think that he was testing her. She could understand the want/need to do that, she wanted to herself.

Laurel tilted her head slightly, and raised an eyebrow. "Who?" She wasn't about to be clingy and jealous, not when they'd just met, and not ever.

Dean's expression became one of slight awe, but he continued with the conversation. "My brother. I'm all he's got," he divulged before a pause. "Thought you should know I have baggage before anything happens."

Him living the bad life came to mind again, and she nodded. "I look forward to hearing about him. Now, seriously, when do you get off?"

"Sometime today," he not-really answered. He leaned forward on his elbows. "I have a lot more baggage than Sam, Laurel. I'd rather not bring ou in on it, so I may not be ideal right now, or ever."

Laurel opened her mouth to object like any good lawyer, when another customer pulled him away. She sighed, then glanced towards the dance floor where she had left Joanna. Her friend was grinding with some girl, both giggling and obviously drunk.

Dean was gone longer this time, going from customer to customer, before making his way back to her. "So?"

"Bring it on. I like challenges."

Dean smirked. "I'm the biggest challenge you'll ever take."

Laurel doubted that.

* * *

><p>Laurel was an idiot and she should have listened to Dean. From what he'd told her so far, when she wasn't telling him about how idiotic Tommy was, she'd gathered that he and his brother were abused. She's never met someone who'd been abused, and had no idea how to act around him. She'd have to look more into it, later.<p>

The way he spoke about his father was with reverence she wouldn't have expected, considering he'd said that his old man had been leaving his brother, Sam, in his care since he was nine.

"Nine? _Nine_?! How old was Sam?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno, five? Why? I didn't mind watching him."

"Most kids are left alone when they're around twelve, and then start babysitting when they're thirteen, not nine with a five-year old!" She whisper shouted.

He shrugged again, looking over the Big Belly Burger she'd brought him to. "He wasn't that bad. He was always hungry, though, and just _had_ to watch Care Bears at full volume everyday when I was trying to sleep."

Dean spoke about Sam with the kind of devotion she'd always imagined her soul mate would have for her. It was clear he and his brother had clung to each other through the abuse.

A lull in conversation reared its awkward head, then, and she thought about what stories she could tell about Tommy and Oliver, or maybe Joanna or Thea.

Dean saved her the trouble. "That baggage I was talking about earlier... Two things: one, do you have any baggage I should know exists, or about, or whatever? Two, the stuff I haven't told you... it's practically engrained in my brain to not talk about it to you, or anyone, and I'm sorry, I guess. It's a big part of me, but I don't really know you, like, at all, so..."

"It's okay," she said despite the overwhelming curiosity she had about it. She could agree to things like that, especially since he seemed to be saying that he'd share eventually. "If you'll tell me whenever you're ready, I'll wait. And I don't think I have any baggage, not really."

He looked contemplative for a moment. "Alright... what if I don't tell for years? This thing, it'll make me be away for a long time, and puts me in danger. Thoughts?"

Honestly, she wanted to know what it was more than ever, but tamped down on the urge to ask. "Little off-putting, but I think I can manage."

"Good." He grinned.

* * *

><p>"You <em>what<em>!" Sam shrieked later, after Dean and Laurel had parted ways with each other's numbers. "Dean, _please_ tell me you're pulling a prank on me."

"Why would I mess around with soul mates, Sammy? You know I'm serious about it."

"Yeah, I do, but..."

"Don't you wanna hear about her?" Dean demanded. He didn't like how Sam had already decided how he felt about her when he didn't know a thing about her. "She's a lawyer, like you want to be, you know. And she's beautiful."

Sam groaned. "You're so _cheesy_. It's disgusting! I hate it. I hate that she is making you become cheesy. Ugh."

"I've always been cheesy, bro. It's not her. And, anyway, _why_ do you want me to be pulling your leg?"

"Because," Sam said, adding on a pout that might've worked when he wasn't seventeen years old and all angles. Dean gave him an unimpressed look. Sam's face didn't budge.

"Sam, we both know that hasn't worked for some time. Put it up and answer me."

Sam groaned. "You're not Dad," he told his older brother like Dean didn't already know, "you can't tell me what to do."

"I am, however, the oldest and the one paying for the roof under which you live, so I'm in charge." Dean gloated.

Sam grunted and turned away. Dean just grinned.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Dad? You have to promise me you won't shoot my soul mate." Laurel stressed as she walked into the living room, thinking of how Dean might react to being shot at. Probably not good.<p>

"Whenever you meet him and introduce him to me and I don't think he's not good enough, then I'll promise." Quentin sat back on the couch. Sara was on the love seat, and their mother, Dinah, was on the couch next to their father.

"Well, I _did_ meet him today..." She trails off, knowing that she's piquing everyone's attention.

"What?" All three said, though Sara and Dinah sounded excited while Quentin sounded horrified.

"Yeah, I met him, and he is extremely hot. And, he stood up to the guy that was about to roofie some girl at the bar. He works there, said it's paying the bills for the place he and his brother, Sam, live at," she described, making sure to paint him in the best light possible.

If her dad knew that he had a job, was a good guy, and had a place to live where he wasn't alone and thus, couldn't take her back to kill her, he'd soften up to the idea of Dean.

"He's really funny, too. All of his stories are about the times he and his brother did something stupid together." Laurel had kind of _liked_ being in his presence. He was fun to be around, and she really liked that. It was too early, but she could see living out a life with this guy, with her soul mate. "And he seems really reassuring, if that makes any sense."

"Oh my god!" Sara laughed in excitement. "Okay, I need all of the details. Like, _all_ of them, got it?"

"Yeah, I get it, Sara. What do you want to know first? I might be able to answer it."

"Why wouldn't you be able to answer her questions?" Her dad demanded.

"I just met him today, I don't know everything about him, and he doesn't know everything about me." She defended.

"Where's he from? If he's from Starling, you'd think you two would've met earlier, right?" Sara intervened.

"He's from Kansas. I asked if he worked on a farm there, and he said he moved away when he was four, so don't ask if he's some country-bumpkin guy."

Sara giggled.

"I have some questions," Quentin cut in. Dinah glanced at him, warning him to not go too far. "What's his family look like, other than his brother?"

"He only talked about his dad. About that, though... I think his dad is abusing he and his brother, or has at one point, at least."

Quentin softened for a moment. "Why is he here, then? And what about his mother?"

"Didn't mention her. And he said he's here because Sam was accepted at Starling's private high school."

Quentin contemplated all he knew about the guy so far, and said, "I want to meet him."

Sara groaned on her sister's behalf, and shot her a look that said she was sorry about their dad being so protective, not that she could help it.

Laurel nodded. "Fine. But it'll be a while, okay? I just met him," she reminded. "I don't want anything or anyone to scare him off, and you will, even if he's my soul mate."

"I think that's fine, sweetheart," her mother said for both of her parents. Laurel nodded her thanks to her mother. "I can't wait to meet him. He seems great from what you've told us."

"So far, he has been." Laurel smiled. She couldn't wait, either.

* * *

><p>They went to dinner again, two days later, and she told him about Sara and her parents.<p>

"They would be considered my baggage, if Sam is yours," she added when he looked kind of apprehensive.

"No, I get it. I'll meet your family sometime, maybe, and I'll introduce you to Sam, too." Dean said, leaning back in his seat. He could picture what Sam and Laurel would do when they met, and it wasn't very pretty on Sam's part.

"What about your parents?" Laurel asked, trying to make it seem like she was concerned and not trying to get her nose in his business.

He shrugged. "Mom's dead, Dad's kind of an asshole. Sam is who you're gonna have to win over. I'm assuming for me, it's your dad, right?"

"Yes. He's a detective, and he may try to shoot you, so be prepared." She paused, "how is your father an asshole, exactly?"

Dean grinned. "I'm gonna be around inquisitive lawyers for the rest of my life. Alright, let me tell you the whole story. My mom died when I was a kid, he saw the whole thing, it made him grumpy. I think he might blame Sam a little bit, and they don't get along real well anyway, so I like to keep them separated. He's not really nice at all, even to people who are traumatized.

"He likes to shout, though, and pull the 'I'm all you got' card when I don't bow down to him and do his every command, so...," he trailed off.

Laurel nodded in thought. "It sounds like he's dependent on you, and when you don't 'bow down,' he sees it as something bad, right? So, the question is, why does the father, your dad, depend on you, the son?" She wasn't a psychologist, but she had been getting into the mind of criminals for a while, and she couldn't help but think that Dean's father wasn't exactly an angel/saint.

Dean tensed slightly, before shaking it off and pretending he was cool with the topic. "He was really messed up after Mom died."

"And?" Laurel asked. "Someone had to have been taking care of you. How old were you when she died?"

"I was four, and there wasn't. I took care of Sam, and when Dad got home, I distracted him with food and stories about what we did all day so that he wouldn't be upset and get plastered." Dean defended himself. He didn't like to think about the weeks after his mother's death - he didn't like to think about the entire year that he was four years old at all, except for all the parts with Sammy doing something new.

Laurel was hit with the realization that it probably wasn't physical abuse that the brothers went through, it was neglect, and Dean had become something of a pseudo-father at four years old. It was as saddening as it was completely awe-inspiring.

"So you just became an authority figure to your baby brother?" She asked slowly, knowing that it was a change in conversation that he might want.

Dean nodded. "Yep, he came to me when he did something bad. Usually, his punishments were I told him a secret to being cool, that was actually a way to get him to a bigger loser status," he chuckled. "One time, he cut up the motel sheets for a school project, and I told him that eating garlic and onions on the regular would be like cologne, and all the girls would flock him. It was great!"

Laurel laughed. "One time, Sara tried to sabotage a date I was on with a guy she thought was cute. She never told me about her little crush, though, so I had no idea that she liked him." She explained, choking on giggles. "She dressed up as a waiter, with a fake moustache and a wig, and she messed up our order, like, three times. And she spilled the refills all over me, every time! It was awful! She got grounded for so long...," she trailed off, laughing too hard to continue.

She didn't notice the look in Dean's eyes.

Dean chuckled. He was liking his soul mate more and more with every story she told. Maybe this _thing_ they had could become the ultimate thing - a future, spent together.

"Hey, Laurel?" He asked once her laughing had mostly died out.

"Yeah?" She sensed this was something serious, and calmed herself quickly.

"... Do you want to be my girlfriend?" He asked, then rushed out, "I know it's kind of early, I mean, we've only been on, like, two dates and-"

"Dean," she cut him off. "I would love to."

Dean sighed in relief, and then grinned. She was going to regret that, in the best way possible.


End file.
